


Tomorrow's Money

by dearly_beloved



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 20:49:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17332109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearly_beloved/pseuds/dearly_beloved
Summary: Frank Iero is a hitman who does the dirty work for a wealthy company.  In his line of work, it's important to feel nothing but indifference to your next target.  But what happens when he starts falling for the person he's been hired to kill?





	1. Target Reveal

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place in the future (who knows how long in the future, I'm gonna say 50-100 years), and Apple has become a company who now hires hitmen to kill competitors. 
> 
> I mean they might do this already for all we know but here it is!!
> 
> Please read this, I promise it's worth it.. I'm going to build up this story a lot and really make something out of it.

Frank stepped out of his car into the cold air, shivering at the change in temperature. Now it was almost January, and winter had just taken its hold on the city. The first snowfall was only 3 days ago, and ever since then, the freezing weather and chilly breeze that came with it would not let up.

Even under his gloves and two jackets, Frank was fucking freezing. He was always cold. He simply never got used to it. He cursed the entire existence of winter as he grabbed his bag and headed towards the glistening building.

The Apple building was always clean, and always newly renovated. After all, they were probably the richest tech company in the entire world. They were well known for their famous products and constant push for the new and improved. What most people didn’t know was what was behind the scenes of every major company like this.

Of course, there were the things most people did know, like the sweat shops in Taiwan and the stealing money through hidden phrases in absurdly large contracts, as well as making old versions of products defective with time, and all that. But what they didn’t know was that there was literal blood on the hands of most of these high profile companies. The assassinations on competitors. The loads of dirty work they employed to keep victims quiet.

That was where Frank came into the equation. As he stepped through the sliding glass doors, and the guard scanned his fingerprint and he swiped his ID card, it was clear that Frank didn’t quite belong here. He wasn’t polished and educated, raised wealthy, or at all type you’d expect to see working at a tech company. Most of the employees here were code developers or something of the sort. Frank was the only one with his hair a bit longer than most men wore it and unkempt, covered from head to toe in tattoos. He walked in a defensive stance, glaring rather than smiling at people who passed by him in the halls, and coldly ignored unfortunate soul who had to share an elevator ride with him. The truth was, Frank felt completely out of place in the headquarters. But luckily, he only ever had to come here for about an hour when he got new assignments.

Frank got his job because he was exceptionally good at what he did. That was, killing people.

It started years ago, when he was only a teenager. Frank was not new to criminal activity. He lived on the East Coast and his family had mafia ties. When his parents were killed in the midst of a complicated gang war when Frank was only about 6, some of his cousins took him in. Frank lived in a big family, but he didn’t have his own parents, or real brothers and sisters. Still, he had a lot of cousins and they were the only family he knew, so it wasn’t long before Frank was peddling drugs and learning about the family business. By the time he was in high school he knew very well how to fight, and had been in his fair share of street fights and gang confrontations. Death was all around him. He’d watched his friends and family members die, and he had seen plenty of strangers die. It wasn’t long before Frank was desensitized to death itself, no longer frightened by it.

But he was 19 the first time he was the one to kill a person.

It was in a fight, nothing out of the ordinary. Frank and two of his cousins were sent to teach a lesson to some guys who had stolen supply from the Family. But there were more opponents than expected, and while Frank was taking on someone else, he noticed his younger cousin who was only about 15 being beaten senseless by a guy twice his size. Frank knew the kid was strong, but he wasn’t strong enough, and Frank felt responsible for him. In a panic, he knocked down his own attacker, and ran at the guy beating his cousin senseless. Before he thought twice, the gun was pulled out of his holster and pressed up against the guy’s temple. Without second guessing, Frank pulled the trigger, instantly sending him to his death.

Frank was shocked by the way he felt after those events. He was glad to help his cousin, sure. But killing gave him a feeling he had never experienced. He felt true power, because he had the ability to take away everything from a person, their very life essence if he wanted to. That night he knew there was no going back.

Once the Family found out Frank was comfortable doing hits, he slowly became their go-to guy. Frank enjoyed the excitement of the ‘missions’ he was sent on, as well as that intoxicating power of watching someone fade away into nothing. But it helped him to know he wasn’t killing innocent people. All of them were drug lords, gang members, no better than him. Some of them even ran human trafficking rinks and shit like that. So Frank tried not to think about it too much, just reminded himself that he was getting rid of some garbage that would hurt his family if left alone.

Frank’s family ties gave him a comfortable place to live with all expenses taken care of, and some extra money on the side. Frank didn’t desire much besides the rush of a kill, some drugs and booze, and sometimes a person to fill the empty space in his bed at night. He was considered relatively high up in the family, and content with this status. He was highly respected and feared by the time he was 25, anyone who crossed by him on the streets would know just from the look in his eyes that he wasn’t to be messed with. That was, if the multiple gang tattoos didn’t tell them first.

Then one day, inexplicably, a nicely dressed man came and knocked on the Family’s door. One of Frank’s cousins answered, perplexed by the strange out-of-towner who lacked the Jersey accent, asking for Frank “Ee-ro”. The guys laughed it off and called Frank down anyways, wondering if they’re older cousin would kill the guy for so much as mispronouncing the Family name.

Frank had no idea what to expect when he saw a man in a light blue dress shirt, nice ironed slacks and neatly gelled blonde hair standing at the front door. He was almost a bit nervous, worried this guy was a CIA agent or some shit. He waved his two younger cousins away, who were hovering around near the door, anxious to see what was going on.

Frank had his gun ready in his sweatshirt pocket, knowing he would grab this man by his button-down shirt, throw him inside and lock the door before putting an end to him if it needed to happen. And if he was from the government, Frank may need to flee the country or something, or maybe even the whole Family. Shit, they could really be fucked.

What he didn’t expect was a handshake and a job offering, of all things. The man insisted on coming inside, saying he needed to speak with Frank about very confidential information. So Frank let him in, albeit hesitantly, telling his cousins to wait upstairs but come down if they heard any commotion. Frank was good at sizing up his opponents, the guy who came to the door looked pathetically weak, and if he tried anything, Frank would shoot him in an instant. Which Frank told him as soon as they were sat at the dining room table, displaying his gun and letting him know he would not be afraid to use it.

Frank had no idea what to expect, but in a few sentences, the polished businessman had told him that Apple wanted to hire him to do their dirty work.

It would be an understatement to say that Frank was shocked to learn that the company who made his phone wanted to hire him as a hitman. But then it started to make a lot of sense. They were all humans, after all. Whether it was a gang ringleader in the ghetto or a billionaire CEO, everyone seemed to want someone dead. And Frank was just really good at killing them cleanly, and ridding every trace of evidence.

But not good enough, apparently. How the hell was he on Apple’s radar and not the FBI’s? The arrogant Apple employee then helpfully informed Frank that Apple could afford to run nearly ten times as many investigations as even the federal government. They often looked in areas of high gang concentrations, getting a sense of who had a lot of experience with murder, and who out of those people would be most likely to take a job with the company.

And it seemed they picked the right person. Because after some debate, Frank decided to take the job. It would make him a ton of money, which he could use for whatever the hell he wanted, plus helping out the Family if any of them needed some financial help. There was a part of him that also loved the idea of moving across the country. That’s where the headquarters were located, in the northern section of the West Coast, about an hour or two from the ocean. A nice city was tucked away along a river in a vast forest, and about 30 minutes from there, one of the famous headquarters was built among towering pines.

So Frank gathered his belongings, and in three months’ time he had moved. Frank had to admit he loved it here, he really did. Sure, he missed his family, and it was hard making friends at first. But although he was very different from many people here, there was a lot of people who came from all over the place. The surrounding nature was beautiful, and endless array of towering pines and winding rivers. The city had an older feeling to it, humbler but cleaner than any place in Jersey. He just had to get used to smiling at strangers more and adopting a body language that didn’t look like he was expecting to get held up any second. It’ll come with time, Frank convinced himself.

The winters were also milder, but not mild enough. Frank wondered why he couldn’t have been sent to the headquarters in LA where it never snowed. Oh well. He had never been too fond of that area either.

Ever since taking the job with Apple, this had been his life. Mostly it was work. He went on trips, some big and some small, some with a team and some alone, executing hits. He still got the same thrill from pulling the trigger of the gun, but a large part of Frank felt unfulfilled now. The people he had to kill were usually quite regular and innocent, the motives of the company being completely skewed. At least before, Frank was certain he killed actual criminals, people who really had it coming. It just didn’t feel the same when he was sneaking poison into the food of a father who happened to hold an important job in a competing tech company. It never felt right. Even the sick satisfaction he got when he watched the light fade from someone else’s eyes, started to feel wrong to Frank. More wrong than it had ever felt before.

But all of this he pushed to the back of his head. He was making good money here, he had a decent life here. He’d made some friends and could always go out and get drunk on the weekends to forget about shit. He made a lot of money and bought himself plenty of things he wanted with it. He never had to worry about bills or keeping himself fed, or affording a visit to the doctor, like he used to. He could even send a large sum of money monthly to help out with his family back home. It wasn’t only him who could live like a king now, it was everyone he knew.

Frank walked into the elevator of the building, sighing in relief when no one else entered it before the doors slid shut. He hated elevator rides with other people, they were so awkward. He pressed the button for floor 11 and watched it light up, a cheery robotic voice announcing “Floor Eleven. Going up!” As the elevator slid up flawlessly, Frank watched through the glass walls as they passed floor after floor of ‘innovative office space’, all bright and cheerful décor that even included swings and bean bags and other shit like that. Then the destination was released. Floor number eleven.

The eleventh floor looked more like an actual, normal office building, unlike most of the other levels. It was hallways leading to rooms with closed doors, everything wasn’t weirdly glass and see through like the other floors. This was where the majority of confidential meetings were held, most of them Frank still knew nothing about. All he knew was what he was paid to do. So he turned to the right and headed to room 113, where the conference would be taking place.

Frank stepped through the propped open door. He basically right on time as planned, so all of the other staff were already there. Sat at the head of the table was his supervisor, Roza. A few other important looking, nicely dressed staff members flanked her. They were the ones monitoring and directing the mission, or researching targets, more behind the scenes. Frank noticed that none of the other hitmen were here, the people who did the actual dirty work. That meant it would probably be a solo mission.

“Frank,” Roza said, smiling politely, although he didn’t miss the way she eyed him with slight disgust at his still rather lower-class fashion sense, “Nice to see you again. Please, take a seat, and then we can proceed.”

Frank nodded and sat down at the other end of the small conference table, as a guard standing in the corner of the room went to close and lock the door. The conference room was plain and sparsely decorated. The long, wooden table they sat at and the chairs lined around it were the only furniture in the room.

“So, before we begin this briefing, let’s go over the rules.” Roza said. A few members of the meeting sighed, having these rules dozens of times before. “Yes, I know it seems pointless as we’ve all heard the rules, but it’s policy, so I’m sorry but I’ll have to go over it again. First of all, phones in the safe.”

Frank, along with every other person in the room, removed their phones from their pockets and dropped them into the safe that was passed around the table. After, the armed security guard who always stood in the corner of the room took the soundproof safe and locked it, placing it in the corner he stood at. Then, the guard used a metal detector to check every worker, making absolute sure none of them would attempt to record or photograph what was taking place.

“Next, rule number two,” Roza continued, “This meeting is 100% confidential. You are not allowed to speak of any of its contents to any family, friends, even Apple workers who are in different departments, you know the drill. Rule number three, by being here and per your contracts, you will protect Branch 11-M of Apple Incorporated with your life, and will breach confidentially under no circumstance- this includes kidnap, torture, or anything else you can imagine. And rule number four; breaking any of the previously mentioned rules will result in your immediate termination, or worse, your immediate death, depending on the severity of your mistake.” After the last statement, Roza smiled sweetly. “Now let’s begin.”

The supervisor stood, grabbing a stack of small binders and dispersing them to each member of the meeting. Frank knew that inside would be information about his next hit. When he turned to the first page, he would fine the name and photos of the person he would kill next. His stomach turned sickeningly inside of him, and Frank silently hoped it would be a shitty person, so he wouldn’t have to feel so bad about ending their life.

Roza cleared her throat and opened her binder to the first page, signaling for the others at the meeting to do the same. Frank opened the binder, coming eye to eye with a photo of the man he would have to kill next, smiling brightly at the camera.

“Our next target,” said Roza, “Is a man named Gerard Way.”

 

✬✬✬✬✬

 

During the rest of the meeting, Roza went over the details of Gerard, and the reasons he would be the next target they were after.

What Frank learned did not make him feel very sound in what he’d have to do.

Gerard Way was a public defense lawyer. He was hired by individuals, usually in cases involving an individual against a large company. He specialized in suing for damages caused, like the company was committing theft through a contract, or injuries caused by a company and such. And the current case he was working on directly involved Apple.

But that wasn’t all. The family in question was trying to open an open investigation of the company, because the man who hired Gerard believed that the company had something to do with his wife’s murder. His wife had been a detective in a local police station, who also happened to be investigating a murder that was connected to Apple. She was right on their tail, and therefore the company had put an end to her investigation, in the most permanent way they could. Frank couldn’t help but find it a bit ironic. He was being asked to commit a murder, in order to cover up the fact that Apple committed a murder- which was committed to cover up yet another murder. Apple seemed were digging themselves into a hole and very close to getting caught, but it wasn’t Frank’s problem. If they did end up getting caught, he would probably just flee to an undeveloped country and change his name. Always his backup plan. He would be nowhere around to face any consequences the instant Apple became the center of any investigation involving murder.

Apple wasn’t intimidated by Way. His case wouldn’t be public or open for trial for months still, but somehow they were aware of it through private intelligence, that Frank didn’t quite understand. They wanted to put an end to his research before the case was brought to court. After all, they didn’t want him to find anything out. And more importantly, they didn’t want any public suspicion of the company to arise, should this ‘Gerard’ try to speak out, or the case gain media attention.

Gerard was considered an easy target in the eyes of the company. He wasn’t particularly wealthy, he wasn’t married and he didn’t have any living family. He lived in a town about two hours south of the company’s location.

As the briefing was given, Frank looked over the photos of the man, memorizing every detail of his face. He had to be able to recognize him very well by the time he was sent to kill him. Getting the wrong person would be an unforgivable mistake. He pushed away the thoughts in his mind that this guy was actually pretty good looking. He had a round, pale face and high cheekbones, wide hazel eyes. He appeared to be quite fit, and was crowned with sleek, jet black hair that went down to about his chin. And he definitely looked gay. Frank bit his lip, trying to force away any pity or attraction for the guy who seemed pretty innocent. This was just his job, fuck. It’s not like he could sit around crushing on the person he’d have to kill.

But still, looking at a picture of Gerard smiling in his suit and tie, Frank couldn’t help the places his imagination went. It had been a while since he’d had any action, and the guy was admittedly, extremely Frank’s type. Definitely a man, but with a striking feminine beauty to him. Frank could imagine pinning him down against that work desk in the photo, removing his black tie and using it to gag him. Taking off his leather belt and spanking him with it, as he writhed helplessly beneath, begging for more. Pulling his slacks down and fucking him senseless after bending him over the desk, as he moaned like a cheap whore-

“Frank!” Frank snapped out of his imagination quickly and blushed as he realized Roza was staring right at him, and had probably said something to him. Fuck, he was supposed to actually be listening to this meeting, not fantasizing about the guy he was getting paid to kill and getting half hard in his jeans.

“Now that I have your attention,” Roza said pointedly, glaring daggers at him, “I’m giving you the plans for the assignment.” She slid a laminated paper to Frank, that had a few details outlined for him. “There is more detail on the paper, but let me tell you the idea of it. Your budget is one thousand dollars, that should be plenty enough for food and board, and the gas you’ll need to get there and back. You are to execute the hit within a week’s time. Enough time to learn his schedule well, to best indicate when he will be alone the longest. Kill him at a time when you think it will take the longest for anyone to find out he’s dead, as with all hits. If anything goes wrong or is unexpected, for instance you find out he has a roommate we were not aware of, you are to call in to report the information to the office, and we will decide how to proceed from there. We suggest you use your company assigned caliber 22. But use whatever method you see fits, and be as discreet as possible. You might not be the best at listening to briefings-“ this earned a few chuckles from the other members of the meeting, to Frank’s irritation, “-but we know you’re an expert at what you do. This should be an easy one, so we’re trusting you on your own. There’s no need for a team. Don’t let us down, Frank.”

“I won’t,” Frank said, meeting Roza’s intense gaze.

“Good,” she said. “You are all dismissed. Vishnu will return your phones to you at the door.”

 

✬✬✬✬✬

 

When Frank was home, he decided to read over Gerard Way’s file, no longer feeling uncomfortable and out of place in the office briefing. God, he hated those briefings. He was glad it was only a fraction of his job, and he wouldn’t have to return to the headquarters for at least another week.

The binders usually had pretty much all information about a person the company could find, from a person’s job to their personal relationships, even their known pastimes. It was important for a hitman to know as much as possible about a target, to understand their routines and patterns, and to know the best time to find them completely alone.

Gerard Way, it turned out, was raised in Jersey like Frank was, a few cities over. He had been pretty poor in his childhood as well, and similar to Frank, his entire family died when he was only 8 years old. Unlike Frank’s parents, who were murdered, Gerard’s family was lost to a severe virus that wiped out a large population of the slums about 20 years ago. Frank even remembered this happening, a lot of low income folks died because vaccinations and medical care aren’t generally available to people who can’t afford it. Frank was only lucky enough to get the vaccination because his Family had ties to people in many institutions, including medical surgeons who usually helped with removing bullets and stitching people up under the radar. But they could sneak vaccines as well if that was what the Family wanted.

Gerard was lucky, or unlucky depending on how you look at it, as he was the only one out of his family to survive contracting the illness. Afterwards, he was moved around to different orphanages and foster families in New Jersey, never staying in one place for long. But it was mentioned that he was incredibly intelligent as a child, and when faced with grief, he delved deeper into his studies, probably to distract from the pain. He was a top student at every public school he attended, and did so well in school that he was able to stand out to a pristine New York college that offered him a full ride scholarship. He pursued a degree in law, and attended law school after. And his ambition paid off. Gerard worked for a high up law firm in New York, taking countless cases for years and proving himself to be a highly capable lawyer. He won almost all of his cases.

By the time Gerard was 30, he had paid off his law school debt and wanted to pursue other options. At that point he decided to move across the country where rent was cheaper and the scenery was prettier, the weather a bit warmer, and started his own law firm to work cases he believed in and was passionate about. Gerard decided on his own to make less money, so he could work defending usually poor or middle class individuals against rich companies. Now, he was still able to live a comfortable lifestyle, renting a small house in the town he now lived in.

The binder reported that Gerard wasn’t known to have any roommates, significant others, or particularly close friends. It was only stated that he occasionally would visit clubs and bars, or attend shows and concerts, and would sometimes bring guys home with him (Frank knew it). He lived a pretty normal lifestyle, had a few friends who he worked with and would go out for drinks with and such, but otherwise seemed to be pretty isolated. He would go on hikes, go on runs, go to the gym almost daily. When he wasn’t at the office, he would often work on cases at local coffee shops and such. The binder also mentioned he had a cat, which Frank found to be pretty amusing.

Frank couldn’t help the pang of pity that went through him again, though. He tried not to think about it, not to relate to or feel bad for the person he was after, as always. But it was becoming harder and harder to be indifferent when Apple kept presenting him with kind, well-meaning people, that Frank had to kill. He thought again with a sigh that he liked it a lot more when he killed people he knew next to nothing about. All he would know is, “This guy stabbed your cousin, so you need to kill him.” That was a lot easier than putting a bullet in the head of a lonely public defense lawyer with a rough past he overcame, who liked coffee and had a cat.

Frank’s mind trailed off, thinking of a short lecture Roza had given in the conference earlier that day.

“Remember not to sympathize with the enemy at all. This man may seem innocent, but he is putting the company, and our livelihood at risk. What do you think will happen if this case goes public, or god forbid, he wins the case? That’s right. Every single one of us will be going to federal prison for the rest of our lives.”

Frank shuddered at that thought. Prison was, to him, a lot worse than death. 

He didn’t know how long he would last in this job, but he tried to hold it together. He reminded himself of how much the money was helping his Family. He reminded himself that he was now protected from all of his past crimes, and that for the most part, this job was keeping him from the fate of a criminal life. He was a high school dropout who had no other skills that would help him get work. It was either this or going back to the gang, which in hindsight was an overly stressful, traumatic way to live. Sure, he still did something morally wrong, but Apple had the power to ward off law enforcement. Even though gangs could be powerful and pull some strings, that didn’t keep them protected from police raids and FBI investigations that still happened. As powerful as his Family was, one mistake could still send them crumbling down. Frank felt constantly paranoid back in Jersey, worried that the police would storm their house on any given day. But with this job, at least public outcry would give him a fair warning and time to flee if the government caught on (that was, if they already didn’t know and were being paid to keep it a secret). He always felt confident and certain in his missions, and completely safe at home.

That thought always gave Frank some resolve in his decision. He would have to kill this Gerard guy, there was no other choice. If Frank didn’t work for the company, the guy had it coming for him anyways- he would still die. Only a different person would pull the trigger. It was a struggle to feel sympathy for almost every person he had to kill now, but Frank reminded himself of the thrill of his job, the pure joy he felt when tracking a person down, closing in on them, and then finally ending their lives. ‘Hunting’ was how he liked to think of it.

Frank put down the binder, and began packing, preparing as he always did for a trip. He would be in Gerard’s town for a week, staying at a cheap motel. He filled a small duffle bag with everything he needed- a few changes of clothes, his laptop, toiletries, Gerard’s binder and his mission outline. And, most importantly, his handgun. He would leave tonight, and tomorrow, he would find this Gerard Way.


	2. Curse of the Coffee Shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank lays eyes on his next target for the first time.

Frank pushed into the cozy coffee shop, sighing in relief as the warm air inside enveloped him.  He removed his coat upon entering.  It was freezing outside, so the temperature of the room was shocking despite it probably being about average.  Even the short walk Frank had taken from his car to the store was miserable, and he was dressed in like 3 layers.  So Frank was thankful for the warmth of the store, the relaxing atmosphere, and promise of coffee.  But he was here on business.

He was dressed as inconspicuously as possible.  He was wearing all dark colors, including a plain black sweatshirt, worn jeans and a grey scarf that conveniently covered his neck tattoos.  He didn’t want to stand out from other people in any way.  Gloves concealed his hands, which were heavily decorated with ink as well.  Blending in flawlessly was part of his job.  The worst-case scenario would be his victim taking notice of him, or, God forbid, talking to him.

After Frank had waited in the small line, he ordered a latte and a croissant, and took his food and drink to a small table in the corner of the store when it was ready.  His cup had the name ‘ _ Jake’  _ scrawled on it in sharpie marker.  Obviously, Frank would never give anyone his real name when he was on a job.

Once at his table, Frank quickly scanned the room with his eyes, trying to catch sight of his next target.  He hoped Gerard had come to this coffee shop today and it wasn’t just a dead end.  But it wasn’t long before his eyes landed on just the man he was looking for.  Frank was overtaken with a mix of excitement and relief.  It was undoubtedly Gerard Way.

He was wearing an oversized  navy blue  jacket, along with a black and white striped scarf.  His hair was dark brown and he wore it a bit longer than most men do.  It fell over his face in messy strands.  He was hunched over a computer, accompanied by a large textbook, and papers scattered all over the small table he was sat at.  He ran his hand through his hair, appearing stressed.  He was almost all the way across the room from Frank, and completely absorbed in his work.  Frank smirked.  This would make it very easy for him to watch Gerard.

Keeping an eye on the other man, Frank took his own notes, subtly on his laptop.  He was sat where no one would be able to look over his shoulders and get a glimpse of what he was typing, so he knew it was safe to do so.  There wasn’t much to take notes on, though.  Just Gerard’s focused nature, and quite anxious energy that never swayed.  At one point, he got up to get a coffee refill.  But other than that, nothing changed for over two hours.

As the time passed, Frank found himself wishing he could get a refill of his drink himself.  He knew it was a bit risky, though.  He tried to avoid ever leaving one spot as he was spying on someone, in order to remain as unnoticeable as possible.  But he really wanted another latte, and he had no idea how long they’d be here.  Because he needed to stay however long Gerard does, because he needed to know how long Gerard usually spends at the coffee shop.  And then Frank would even have to stay a little bit longer than Gerard, to avoid arousing suspicion.

Either way, looking at Gerard made his chest hurt in an odd way.  Whenever the guy lifted his head from his work to take a sip of his drink, Frank would see that he was even better-looking in person.  And it was quite endearing how absorbed with his work he was.  He was clearly passionate.  It made Frank feel more like the ‘dull businessman’ out of the two of them.  Hating his job that had become mundane, and feeling trapped in it.  While Gerard’s job appeared to bring him genuine freedom and excitement.  It drew Frank in.  Like a moth to a flame, he was subconsciously drawn closer.

But he pushed those feelings away.  He couldn’t be closer, ever.  He knew that.  He would never grow warm from the fire.  He’d have to put it out instead.  And he tried to ignore how pained that thought made him feel.

Eventually Frank made the decision to get up and head back over to the counter, throwing the cup of his old drink away.  The store was slightly more crowded now, so there were a few more people ahead of him in line than there were earlier.  Frank went behind them and pulled his phone out of his pocket, pretending to be deeply invested in what social media had to offer.  In reality, he was just doing his best to not make eye contact with anyone in the room that he didn’t need to.  It would make someone more likely to remember him.  And he couldn’t afford to be remembered when the police start investigating.

Shortly after getting in line, Frank felt a presence behind him.  It wasn’t unusual, he guessed, someone had probably just joined in line behind him.  He took a small step forward as the line moved ahead.  But he was startled as he felt a light tap on his shoulder.

Frank jumped slightly, and turned to face whoever was behind him, wondering what the hell they could want.  He was faced with a pair of wide, hazel eyes, framed with the same messy brown hair he’d been watching from across the room all this time.

_ Fuck _ , was the only thing that would come to his mind.  It was Gerard.

“Oh, sorry,” the man said quickly, in a higher and more nasally voice than Frank had expected.  But his voice fit him in a way.  “I didn’t mean to surprise you,” he added, giggling.  Frank inwardly groaned, because he was even cuter when he started talking.

And Gerard continued talking, smiling slyly and eyeing Frank in a curious way that Frank couldn’t quite identify, “I just.... couldn’t help but notice you watching me from across the room.”  Gerard gave Frank an inquisitive look as the words left his lips.

Frank was frozen in place, breaking out in a cold sweat.  Had he been that obvious?  No one had  _ ever  _ caught him watching them before.  Was it the fact that he kept glancing at Gerard whenever the other man was sipping his drink, curious to see his face again?  Frank didn’t know what to do.  Maybe he should abort this mission, Apple could send someone else.  Fuck.  He really fucked this one up.

“Uh- oh, yeah, sorry, I-” Frank stuttered out, desperately searching his brain for an excuse.

Gerard broke into those cute giggles again, apparently finding Frank’s response amusing.  “No!  It’s okay, I mean, I couldn’t say I’m not interested.” Gerard let his eyes roam over Frank in a suggestive manner, clearly checking him out.  But at the same time, his pale cheeks were tinted heavily with red from blushing.

Oh.   _ Oh. _

Gerard thought Frank was looking at him because he was  _ attracted to _ _ him _ .

Which wasn’t entirely inaccurate.  But Frank was glad Gerard didn’t know the real reason behind his stalkerish behavior.  It was better that way.

Frank didn’t know how to respond.  He wasn’t supposed to ever,  _ ever  _ talk to one of his targets.  Already he was breaking so many rules, just by continuing this conversation with Gerard.  He was screwed.  Now there was no way he could just casually follow this guy around, because Gerard would recognize him.  Frank would either have to ‘get rid of’ him very soon, or someone else would have to.  He found himself hoping the latter would happen.  Because right now, he couldn’t possibly fathom putting a bullet through the skull of the man talking to him.

Frank opened his mouth to turn down Gerard.  Not because he wanted to, but because he had to.  But before he could speak, Gerard was gesturing to something behind Frank.  Frank turned around in confusion and blushed when he realized he was next in line and hadn’t noticed.

He hurried up to the counter, placing his order and giving the barista his name.  He then stepped aside, awaiting his drink and secretly dreading the moment when Gerard would join him after he’d ordered.  And sure enough, less than a minute later Gerard returned to Frank’s side along with his black coffee refill.

“You seem shy,” Gerard said, after observing Frank for a moment, “That’s okay.  I’m kind of shy too, honestly, I used to be worse.  I had to force myself to start talking to people, to meet them.  So I like seeing it in other people.”

Frank simply nodded along.  It was better for Gerard to think he was just ‘shy’, not ‘hiding the fact that I'm plotting your demise’.

After a few moments of awkward silence in which Frank refused to fill with continued conversation, the barista called out, “Frank!”, placing a drink on the counter.

Frank felt his head explode into a million small pieces, and now those pieces were shamefully falling to the floor.  His  _ name _ .  His  _ real fucking  _ _ name _ .  Was he really caught off guard by Gerard enough to make a mistake that stupid?  Could he really not handle his job now, just because he has a bit of a crush on his next fucking hit?  He had been so taken aback from Gerard talking to him, he hadn’t even remembered to use his alias.  Now he had not only ruined this mission, but compromised the entire operation.  He had never consecutively fucked up this much in his life.

But all he could do was  give  a tight smile to the store’s employee as he retrieved his stupid fucking latte.

“Frank.  I like that name,” Gerard said as Frank turned to face him again.  Frank smiled kindly on the outside, whereas on the inside he was decomposing in embarrassment. Of course Gerard had not only heard the name, but liked it, and commented on it.  And now he definitely wouldn’t forget it.

“Thanks,” Frank said, deciding that would be the most harmless response.   Luckily  he had grabbed his laptop when he’d gotten up to get a drink.  He planned to get the hell out of that cursed coffee shop the second Gerard was done talking to him.

But Gerard seemed determined to drag out this conversation for as long as he could.

“I like your tattoos,” Gerard said, lightly taking hold of his hands as he said it, running a thumb over his knuckles.  More insult to injury- Frank had taken his gloves off shortly after sitting down, as trying to type and navigate a laptop with gloves on was pretty much impossible.  But Frank almost didn’t regret it, as he shivered at the touch.  Gerard’s hands were delicate and cool to the touch.

“What does this say?” he asked as he inspected the tattoo on Frank’s knuckles, taking a moment to read it, “Oh, Halloween?”

Frank nodded.

“Why that?” Gerard asked, a certain twinkle in his eyes.  He seemed to like it.

“Oh, uh, it’s my birthday,” Frank mumbled.  He silently cursed himself yet again, because he really shouldn’t be giving out even more personal information to a Gerard, especially since he already knew Frank’s name now.  Frank apparently just couldn’t possible hold it together in the presence of this weirdly hot lawyer.

Gerard laughed, “I like that.   So  you’re a Scorpio, huh?  I love Scorpios.”

Frank chuckled, kind of caught off guard by that observation.  He liked astrology, and he almost wished he could show Gerard the scorpion tattoo he had on his neck in light of his sun sign.  Believing in astrology was uncommon in this day and age.  It was relatively rare that Frank met someone else who liked it.

“Yeah, I am,” Frank said.  He didn’t need to ask Gerard’s birthday or let him know that he liked astrology as well.  He wanted to, but he couldn’t.  He just couldn’t

“Well, what do you do, Frank?” Gerard asked, “I’m curious.” Well, this was the last thing Frank wanted him to ask.

“Oh, I’m, uh, I’m a mechanic,” Frank said, going with his usual cover.  He knew enough about cars to pull off the lie.

“Oh, that’s nice.  Whereabout here do you work?” Gerard asked inquisitively.

God, he asked way too many questions.  As hard as it was, it was  time  Frank got the hell out of there.

“Oh, on the other side of town.  But, uh, I actually need to be there in like, 30 minutes.  But it was really great to meet you...”

“Gerard,” the other man suddenly chimed, “I’m Gerard, by the way.”

“Okay, it was nice to meet you, Gerard,” Frank said as if he just heard the name, extending a hand awkwardly.

Gerard smiled and shook his hand loosely, his expression amused.  Suddenly he seemed to realize something, glancing to his seat in at the small table that still had his laptop and various scattered papers on it.

“Wait just a second, please, I’ll be right back,” Gerard said hurriedly, rushing over to the table for a moment before writing something quickly on a piece of paper which he then tore a corner off of.  He speed walked back to Frank, shoving the small piece of paper into Frank’s hands.

“Here, it’s my number.  Hope I’m not making you late to work, Frank.  I hope to see you again... maybe I’ll make up for it,” Gerard flashed Frank another dashing, warm smile as Frank smiled back and gave him a nod, before turning and walking out the door as quickly as he could while still seeming casual.

The cold air rushed over him again as he stepped outside.  He pressed his hands over his face, groaning.  There was so much that went wrong in that coffee shop.  An unmeasurable number of things going wrong.  Frank was normally so put together, perfectly blended in, a professional at lying and manipulating everyone around him.  What the hell happened to him?  Did it really take just one pretty guy to make him lose his composure?

As he headed to the  back parking  lot, Frank took a moment to look at the piece of paper Gerard had handed him.  Sure enough, it was his name scrawled in messy handwriting, and his phone number underneath.  Huffing out a sigh, Frank crinkled up the paper.

But instead of throwing it on the floor, he stuffed it deep into the pocked of his jeans.


End file.
